Charity is a Slut

Do you think whoring comes naturally, or is it a learned behavior one cultivates over years of arduous practice? For instance, if a friend experiments with her own Threshold of Sluttiness, and has a random tryst without any expectations for future contact or relationship, would she be able to disconnect without any emotional attachment? Or, would her experiment be foiled by feelings of shame, regret, and guilt?

Many of women within my circle have marveled at Sally's ability to, as they would say, "Fuck like a man." (On a side note: what is fucking like a man? Plenty of men need an emotional attachment to fuck.) For the most part, friends are amused but remain skeptical. They are not convinced they could offer up their sexuality, or vagina, in such a laissez-faire manner. Most are protective of their sweet nectar, and, at the very least, require a verbal connection or promise of a future commitment to really seal the deal. Thus, when other women evaluate Ms. Sunshine's penchant for screwing strangers, their basic judgment involves either admiration from a distance or repulsion from a distance.

Since, we have a tendency to surround ourselves with people who support our life philosophies rather than challenge them; there aren’t many who will express outright disgust, if they love you. As a result, I’ve found admiration from a distance is far more prevalent than other reactions amongst friends.

In fact, in some cases, curious female friends have experimented with their sexuality by sloughing off tradition and fucking a stranger or two. In one situation, immediately after fucking Mr. Nameless, my friend called to report the details. Her voice was higher than normal and she sounded positively thrilled. Originally, I encouraged her, delighted by her big leap in the direction of freedom.

Unfortunately, later on when she ran into Mr. Nameless in public, her bubble burst. He avoided her until the energy grew increasingly awkward. And she, while appearing to maintain a brave front, was dismayed by his lack of interest and the festering uncomfortable silence between them.

Instantly, I recognized her remorse and felt responsible. Did I mislead my young friend? What if I touted my slut pride and deeply felt whore convictions with far too much zeal and inadvertently made whoring seem effortless and common place?

After a few shots of Captain Morgan and careful contemplation, I resigned to the fact that my friend was not on the fast track in my Master Whore Course. She was merely a dear sweet companion along for the ride on our journey toward our respective futures. Finally, I decided to gently speak to her about whoring with a wider perspective in mind. Alone in her car, I explained that although I loved being a whore and all it entails, it can be dangerous emotionally, physically, and psychically.

For instance, there is a possibility one might become ensnared in weird emotional space during the seduction process. Others may find themselves at the mercy of the whore, in love with what she represents, but unable to seize her power or claim ownership over it. Usually, the seduced becomes infatuated with the idea of "saving" the whore, in a deliberate effort to retool her psyche. The seduced may use a multitude of methods to manipulate the whore for their benefit in ways that pale in comparison to just a plain old fuck. As a whore, one’s "leg spread open" energy, is often interpreted as "open" in all other categories, inviting a whole slew of riffraff with their own agendas. Basically, whores must have top-notch boundaries, like a shield made of steel.

Whoring is also physically dangerous. What about diseases? What about abuse? Those are all valid concerns. Even if safe sex is practiced with vigor, one still leaves themselves open to a variety of "what ifs". The AIDS crisis in the 1980’s cemented this new paranoia in our minds. Notice, I do not advocate sleeping with each and every person one’s genitals happen to graze. If one is squeamish, there are other ways to be with one another erotically, for example, masturbation. Masturbating with others is a great way to avoid the messy implications of fucking in a post-AIDS society while getting your rocks off at the same time.

Lastly, psychically whores must raise the shield, not only collectively, but interpersonally. Because sluts are embracing a traditionally negative label, they must be ready to withstand and flourish under the hateful stare of conservatives, religion, and in general, society.

My ability to detach and give myself in deep surrender to the collective was not harvested over night. The lessons I learned fucking random strangers as a young Lolita have come to fruition, and now I navigate the rocky slut terrain with expertise. But it was not always this way. Sally Sunshine has had her moments of weakness on her knees alone on the floor with a bottle of bourbon and a mascara-smudged face. Yet, still I come back to the thrill. The thrill of another’s hands running down my body, hot with the freshness of exploring another crevice. I still yearn for the seduction, the powerful art of attraction and the wet drip between my legs.

Yours in genuine pursuit of pleasure,

kiss kiss,

S.S.

Perverted Subconscious Space

“You come out at night
that's when the energy comes
when the dark side's light
and the vampires roam”
-Building a Mystery – Sarah McLachlan

Have you ever had a dream you were so ashamed of you wanted to crawl in a hole and hide? Then, did you punish yourself by playing the role of both victim and perpetrator? After all, it's your subconscious mind creating- not his, hers, or it. Shocking thoughts are like a whirlwind in our brains, taking root in the deepest corners of one’s psyche, pushing us to think twice about the direction of our life. Others might not be privy to it, but, make no mistake; a subconscious revolution is taking place.

Naturally, for Sally, the most shocking dreams have been deeply disturbing sexual dreams. Incestuous red-faced embarrassments tempered with uncomfortable silences color the dreamscape and demand I decipher their meaning.

First, I must point out, this topic may be triggering for those who have been subjected to incestuous abuse. My intention is not to further enhance the pain many have experienced. Next, I should reiterate, I, personally, am not a victim of sexual abuse. However, I wouldn’t be paying proper respect to the topic if I didn’t mention that incestuous relationships are not entirely bound to the physical- psychological/emotional/psychic rape can be present with or without physical contact. Nor are all sexual relations between family members harmful to the people involved, obviously, it depends on the situation.

Being a human being, incidentally, is trait many of us share on this planet. But, as I am writing this, I cannot believe that I am. The old Sally never would’ve shared the intimate details of her subconscious with the general public. However, it is my hope, in the honesty I offer, others will be inspired to do the same. Even though different experiences shape our inner world and define us, we are all, as one of my favorite musician’s would say, “citizens of the womb before we divide into sexes and shades, this side or that side. “ Thus, it is in the spirit of shared awareness that I reveal the details of the dream.

The dream sequence starts in my dwelling during my teenage years. My dad, who I haven’t seen in years, suddenly appears with his new wife. She is not the monster I expected. She is a young woman with pretty ringlet curls and a soft round face. She smiles at me, radiating warmth and positive energy. I smile back, say a few words to her, and enter another room.

I wait in the room for my father. When he enters the room, I’m filled with anxiety. I ask, “Why are you here?” His message is complex and I am horrified. I know he’s angry because I don’t understand. He removes his clothing, lies down beside me, and announces he’s returned to perform an initiation. He is suspended above me, dick hard, and ready to penetrate. I want it, but I will not let him do it. I’m deeply immersed in pleasure, when suddenly I’m whipped back into a new reality loop with force.

As my alarm sounds, the sickness stays with me. I feel disgusted, angry, and violated. The feeling persists through the day as I’m unable to shake the dream sequence from my brain. I cannot quite escape the literalism of the dream, but I am not completely bound to it either. I begin the process of slowly sifting through the tangled layers of my friendships, romantic involvements, and family relationships to uncover any hidden pretenses and find peace with my discoveries.

What I find, however, is not strictly literal or metaphorical. It does, but also does not, have much to do with the actual relationship my dad and I shared. In my dream, I will not fuck my father. In fact, I am terrified of who he is and what he’s trying to do to me. I resist, even though, my body clearly desires otherwise.

Through analysis, I realize I've stumbled upon a deep resistance to masculine energy and influence. You may have noticed my relationship with the feminine figure in the dream. I was relatively comfortable with her, perceiving her as soft, sweet, and tender. The masculine figure, however, was speaking in complex riddles and performing uncomfortable initiations on unsuspecting virgins. Unsurprisingly, I find myself, staring back at myself, in both masculine/feminine dream figures.

Further, since Sally often refers to herself as an “initiator of the highest order”, being initiated (i.e. taken back to school- sexually or psychologically) is extremely painful for this whore. But this is where I stand before you today.

Pay attention to any dreamtime shock waves you may be flooded with lately. Dreams of this magnitude represent a turning point in our mentality at the apex of an important revelation. But, before we cross that bridge and consciously integrate this “new material” into our lives, we must dive down into the abyss and recover. Eventually, synchronicity steps in to remind us we’re on path, when we are ready to process and put to use, our individual lessons.

Pluto and Jupiter hit the Galactic Core today, hold on to your metaphysical asses, friends.

Love & light in your direction,
Sally.

**Album Cover: Fatherfucker
Artist: Peaches

Rectal Ruminations

Today, someone alerted me that the tail light on my car is out. So, in this strange and often synchronous universe, I’ve also begun to suspect something is wrong with my ass. It’s been a little itchy and well, to put it plainly, bloody. That’s right, folks, Sally’s got a bad case of rectal bleeding. Now, I should make it clear, it’s not a lot of blood, but it’s enough to cause a re-evaluation of the joys of anal sex.

Sally has been a supporter and willing participant of ass play since day one. However, over the years, I have determined there are simply some men who should not fuck anyone in the ass, ever. Men who aren’t trained in Assology 101 should not run around sticking it where the sun don’t shine. Butt *ahem* But, the problem is, I run into ass novices with starling frequency. And unfortunately, with ass play, it’s often a “learn as you go” experience. Parents don’t sit down with their curious teenagers to discuss ass. It just doesn’t happen. In fact, I don’t remember talking about the “how to” aspect of anal sex once with friends either, which is odd because we talked about everything else.

Thus, when I started experimenting with anal sex with my boyfriend when I was twenty, I was still pretty ignorant. We both wanted to go that route, but were unsure of how to proceed with it. We never used lube, sex toys, and god forbid the day we’d be forced to say the word “anal” to each other. Yet, there were days when his hard cock pushed up against my ass for hours teasing it slightly and grazing it ever so lightly. My boyfriend, a naughty Libra/Scorpio cusp-er, was too nice to admit it, but I knew he wanted to fuck me there. Hell, even I had grown tired of the grazing game. I knew it was time. But sadly, we parted ways without fully experiencing the intensity of our longing.

My most memorable experience with anal sex happened only a few years ago. Ron* was a sexy farmer with a body from hell and the face of a god. Still, to this day, when I see him my pussy buzzes with yummy. Farmer Ron also had a healthy scattering of planets in the 8th house and a lovely uncircumcised penis. I was sold. Anal sex it was. So, one fateful evening after a long night of drinking and debauchery, he grabbed my ass and told me to spread ‘em. Having been educated on the virtues of lube during my lesbian days, I reached for the KY and my favorite vibrator immediately.

Fuck me, Farmer boy, please fuck me.

Because of the massive quantity of lube I applied, he slid in effortlessly. Also, the steady vibration on my clit had increased my pleasure tenfold to the point where I had to stop. I didn’t want to cum that soon. After about ten minutes of ass heaven, he switched holes- without so much as a warning. Readers, I was livid. Farmer Ron had just violated the first rule of Ass Fucking Courtesy. Do not, under any circumstance, switch holes without washing the cock in question or applying a new condom. Two days later, I had the worst yeast infection ever and was formulating a plan to terminate his life. Ladies, mark my words, men who do not honor or understand this simple Hole Rule should be avoided at all costs. Farmer Ron lost all future rights to my ass after that night.

My anal experiences after Farmer Ron were, thankfully, quite pleasing until recently. Last week, another naughty Scorpio fucked my ass with no lube. Now, keep in mind, I could’ve stopped him and asked for the lube, so it’s partly my fault. But, I was horny and wanted to feel some pain. I told him to pull back on my hair, wrap it around his fist, and slam my head into the headboard. Scorpio boy eagerly pulled my hair at the root and slammed his cock into me. I was, in that moment, enjoying the inherent forbidden quality of ass fucking while gobbling up the pain in large doses. My pleasure receptors were flashing off the map. Eventually, and much too quickly, in my opinion, he came. His warm liquid stained my back and sheets beneath us as we both moaned in release.

Scorpio boy gave me a good run for my money in the pleasure department, but I was unprepared for the consequences that followed. My ass ached for days afterward, plus, the bleeding. But, it’s a little late to cry over spilled milk (torn assholes), so I will accept my ass bleeding fate like a champ. I did, after all, have anal sex with no lube and even asked him to “fuck my ass harder”, which, in retrospect, was probably not the wisest request.

The reality is, when anal sex is performed correctly, it should not be intensely painful and your ass should not bleed. Anal sex can be very enjoyable, if these basic rules are followed:

Rule 1: No ass fucking without lubrication. Please apply generously.

Rule 2: Toys aren’t required for the job, but extra pleasure is double the fun.

Rule 3: Hole Switching is not permitted unless all hygiene interests are protected.

Evidently, Sally Sunshine failed Assology 101 and could probably use a refresher course, along with a new tail light.

Yours in unified pursuit of healthy ass, Sally S.

**artist: Thinking Nude, State I: by Roy Lichtenstein

Speaking of artists: The lovely talented Eric Francis of Planet Waves had this to say about the recent strike of the Writers Guild of America.

"A note of solidarity: As a member of two writers' unions (the National Union of Journalists of the UK and the National Writers Union of the United States) I would like to express my solidarity with the Writers Guild of America, whose members are on strike. Writers work hard, and most of us have to work longer than it takes to go to medical school followed by law school before we earn a living wage. In particular, the writers want a bigger piece of new media: iPods, the Internet, and whatever is to come. I am all for that. Writers are the people who make you laugh, the people who make you think, and the ones who show you the world beyond your mother's garden."

Eric is a 100% correct. Writers work incredibly hard to produce meaningful inspiring content for their readers with, in most cases, very little appreciation, monetarily or otherwise. Eric is a writer and astrologer who has tirelessly shared his gift with the world over and over again. If you have not subscribed to Planet Waves yet, you are missing out. Do so today.

Love you all, Sally S.

The Economics of Ass

Businessman in Water: Chuck Carlton

“Her good looks could've sailed a ship
but her will alone could've sunk it
Funny thing about money for sex
you might get rich, but you'll die by it”
~Close Call: Rilo Kiley

Hello my little goblins, Happy Halloween. It’s been a few days since my last confession, and I’ve been very sinful. Losing one’s soul is exhausting work. And, in true Sally Slut form, my favorite holiday did not disappoint. So, even though the light in my eyes is just a flicker and my skin is still on fire, I come bearing gifts. I’m your supplier, your dope dealer, or, should I say... sex dealer. I’ll sell myself to you for practically nothing and ask for very little in return. I’m an economist’s nightmare. I’ll offer you my ass for free. I’m the girl who won’t say no.

In a capitalist society, the law of supply and demand dictates the cost and availability of scarce resources. Men demand the booty, and women supply it. However, most men have the distinct feeling booty is not bountiful. And, if they do have a chance to fuck, they often retreat because of the emotional entrenchment (i.e. drama). Women expect something for their effort, which is why sex with a woman who doesn’t charge is relatively unheard of. Even though the cute little hottie you met at the bar is probably not a paid slut, one should not assume there won’t be a price to pay. There is no free lunch. If you take hottie home and fuck her like a call girl, she will most likely demand remuneration whether it’s emotional (a new relationship!) or actual money (dinner n’ a movie- reverse courtship style.)

It’s very seldom, then, that one finds a whore, whether she’s paid or not, who will fuck you for free. It screws up the system. If you don’t believe me, analyze the failure of Regan’s “voodoo economics” (supply-side economic theory) in the 1980’s. The idea was the wealthy, who received the benefits of the tax cuts, would eventually share their bounty with the less fortunate. The benefits, thus, would “trickle-down” to average folks and we’d all revel in our richness. The crux of the failure revolved around the concept of the “Free Share.” Were the rich (booty plentiful) really going to share with the poor pathetic (men) folk out of the kindness of their hearts?

Those who have lordship over resources (the booty) have the power. Since history and economic hardship has taught women to bargain with their bodies, power is not surrendered easily. And, if it is surrendered, it almost always has a price. Demand may increase when a woman offers her body at a discount until a certain point is reached. High quality shoppers will have moved on a long time ago, and, even the low-end buyers will scratch their heads in confusion when a seller gives away their goods for free. What’s the point? Where’s the value? Is this a liquidation sale?

Essentiality, this is the power struggle men and women find themselves in. Men want the booty to be more available, while women instinctively understand demand drives price standards. Whores who willingly spread themselves out under random strangers for nothing undermine the system. Radical sluts understand the system is fucked up. They know men & women would enjoy each other a lot more if the market crashed. Yes, some stockbrokers may plummet to their death from great heights when the structure collapses, but, a new freedom will surface in its place.

We are constantly told there is a shortage of resources on this planet. We cling tightly to our treasured possessions. Whether it’s our bodies, partners, or standard of living, it’s difficult to let go of the power associated with acquiring. Yet, it’s the ability to relate to ourselves, partners, and the world at large which ultimately suffers if we do not. Sex doesn’t have to be a means to an end or another bargaining tool laid flat when we reveal our hand.

Sex can be offered freely as a healing gift to others in service.

Fuck the markets. This ain’t no exchange. ~SS

Sex, Weight, and Fuckability

Beauty and Porcelain: Drew May

“Boys are cute, but food is cuter.” – Tori A.

Heaviness plagues me. And no, I’m not talking about weight. I’m talking about responsibilities. Last night, I had plenty of work to finish and was not in the mood to play “loving parental figure.” My lover was dead set on a night with Sally even though what I craved was a night in complete silence with incense burning and music playing. Reluctantly, I agreed to see him as long as he shut his mouth and lay next to me respectfully. All the lights were already off when he entered my apartment, loudly, slamming the door.

He ran into my bedroom and leaped on the bed at full speed. Then, he rested his head on my chest like an adoring child, while he wrapped his arms and legs around my body squeezing me tightly. Had I been in a lusty mood I might’ve responded to his overtures with some enthusiasm, but alas, I was not.

Sally, for once, was not “in the mood.”

Now, for a girl with a sexual appetite the size of Texas, this was strange situation, indeed. Yet, a number of factors about this “quasi relationship” are irritating. First of all, the dude, an overly-excitable Sagittarius, has been grating on my last nerve. His incessant talking and pontificating is driving me up the wall. Secondly, stress.

For Sally,

more stress=less sex

It’s not the physical act of sex, which I enjoy immensely, but the unbelievable amount of energy (and money!) it takes to maintain one’s fuckability.

So, what exactly is fuckability?

A tight ass and slammin’ outfit on the right night?

sell it, Sally, sell it!

Apparently, Venus is not only the Goddess of Love & Beauty, but she’s also the goddess of tanning, shopping, pedicures, manicures, and waxing. There’s nothing inherently wrong with pampering, but there’s time, money, and practical matters to consider. If all of our time is allocated to increasing sexiness, what other areas of our lives suffer?

For example, on a typical Saturday, Sally rises around 9:30 or 10:00 and begins her beauty regimen. I’m off to the gym for at least a two hour work out followed by a short tanning session, eyebrow waxing, and lastly, a pedicure. Afterward, I spend considerable amount of time scouring clothing racks for an appropriate outfit. Outfit choice is crucial. One should have an idea of the theme they’re going for. Slapping on an old tee-shirt and a pair of jeans is not an option. Then, it’s back home by 6:30 for a quick costume check. Accessories and undergarments are selected, then, it’s on to shoes. Boots, flats, and heels are examined to determine the best fit. By 7:30, one can embark upon the “getting ready” process.

Shower, lotion, make-up, hair, perfume.. in that order.

By 9:00 pm, twelve hours later, Sally is finally ready to see and be seen.

Certainly, dedicating the entirety of our energy to The Pursuit of Bootie, can be exhausting. Coming from a girl who’s been in hot pursuit since 1992, it doesn’t get any easier as we get older. Our bodies’ fail (hello Viagra!), careers and/or children demand our attention, and the pressure to conform to societal tradition mounts. We need another to share the burden with, or at least to take out the trash.

Is this the reason people get married? Do we eventually tire of the sexy charade?

Relationships do have a way of eroding the sexy right out of us. Ever notice those people who work out and "primp until they can primp no more" when they aren’t in a relationship, and then, after they’ve attracted their mate, they slip into physical neglect mode? And, to add insult to injury, people are never quite as hot as they were when you first met. Intrigue wears off. Secrets are uncovered and mysteries are solved. Now, some would say, this is where “real” relationships are formed- in the boring practical reality of day-to-day activities.

We may long for the inspired enchantment of our early days, and fondly remember when our fuckability was on the rise. But surprisingly, it’s the ebb n’ flow moments in life that’ll get ya, not the heaviness of the daily grind. Each one of us has to carry water, it is expected and we are programmed for it. We may even find another to assist us (husband/wife/long-term partner), which can be a very stabilizing experience. However, change and chaos still surrounds us. Waxing and waning feelings of interest/disinterest are much more challenging than the weight (responsibilities) of everyday living

Sally wants to remind you (and herself!) this week not to crumble under the heaviness, as my one of favorite musician’s would say, “The weight is a gift.”

Let’s live it like it is.

~SS

Slut Guilt

Guilt: Anthony Guerra

“I don't know why
you want to follow me tonight
when the rest of the world
with whom I've crossed and I've quarreled
let's me down so
for a thousand reasons that I know
to share forever the unrest
with all the demons I possess
beneath the silver moon
maybe you were right
but baby I was lonely
I don't want to fight
I'm tired of being sorry” :: Tired of Being Sorry: Ringside

Sally has fucked, left, and destroyed quite a few people in her short life on this planet, which has led to various accusations like:

“You have no heart.”
“You’re dead inside”
“You’re a scandalous whore.”
“You ripped my pretty red heart in two.” (tribute to Sylvia Plath)

and the old stand by:

“You’re a player.”

What these malcontents don’t realize is during my younger years, I was a nice girl, a people pleaser, in fact. Often times, I would lose interest in relationship long before I broke it off. Even when relationship no longer honored self-discovery and growth, I continued on with the person at my expense. Hell, I spent two and half years with one ex-girlfriend when it should’ve been a one-night stand. But, the girl would flip out, threaten suicide, and stalk me to the ends of the earth until I relented. In order to protect her feelings I soldiered on, half-heartedly, to appease her. This relationship is only one example of how I traded the truth for a lie to protect someone’s feelings. I had many more relationships over the years that followed this pattern.

A part of me felt an obligation to help my partners maintain their emotional balance. Oh, you’re unhappy? Here, let me help. So, you hate yourself and feel weak and misunderstood? Come here, then, my little bird with broken wing. Let me stitch you up and put you back together.

The problem is, once you’ve helped someone in this capacity (either sexually or psychologically) the subject (i.e partner) yearns for fusion and wholeness with their guide again and again. In many cases, the subject becomes addicted to, what they perceive to be, their “savior’s” attention or presence in their life. The subject, then, feeds of this strength while taking what they need for themselves. When the “savior” finally attempts to gracefully bow out of their role or let’s the projection expire, the subject is, naturally, enraged. They want more. We don’t especially like it when our faith or image of someone is destroyed. But as Tori Amos sings, “I was never the vision of what you wanted me to be.”

Readers, I realize this scenario makes Sally sound like a real bitch. Who does this chick think she is? God? a Savior? a freakin’ saint?

My father had a severe Jesus complex, so I am particularly sensitive to being viewed as anybody’s savior. It disgusts me. However, Dad was a charismatic preacher, people wanted to believe him. They needed to believe him. When he spoke his “followers” listened in awe, the man was damn inspiring. Growing up hearing him and seeing him certainly affected me and the way my communication with others is received. Further, since ancestral imprints run deep through our family heritage, daughters and sons carry the strengths and weakness of those who have gone before them. In other words, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

It’s also important to realize human beings are hard wired to seek out meaning in their encounters with others and are prone to projections. For every savior out there, you’ll find someone in need of saving and vice versa. Saviors need their followers as much as their followers need their saviors. This is, essentially, a karmic situation and a sticky one at that.

I wish those who’ve felt slighted by Sally could understand the deeper impact of their perceived abandonment. They were learning something beautiful, and I was too. Nothing is ever lost. People get what they need from one another, even if it hurts. Important lessons do come through our pain and disappointment. And those who have crossed paths with Ms. Sunshine have learned about self-reliance. I can pick you up and dust you off, but in the end, each person must develop their own inner resources, their temple of self, or strong core.

So, here ends Sally’s Slut Guilt.

When we start to understand ourselves (i.e. “birthing” ourselves) we recognize radical honesty is the only way to go. This blog is dedicated to the pursuit of radical honesty, and as we all know, revolution is never a dinner party. It’s tough.

Telling a lover,

“Hey, I’m sorry; I just don’t do relationships right now. “
“I’m sorry, I can’t see you anymore.”
“I’m falling in love with you”
“I’ve fallen out of love with you”
“I want to fuck your best friend”
or “I’d like to fuck you again.”

all requires balls (or ovaries!) of steel. It may be embarrassing, the other person may feel like shit, or you may end up losing them, but we must commit ourselves to the highest order in life...truth.

So be it.

Love you all immensely, Sally.

An Announcement from the Republic of Shaved Pussies

Do you shave, wax, or pluck your pussy hair? Concerned Citizens for the Removal of Pubic Hair (C.C.R.P.H.) would like to know. Actually, a reader emailed me with a few questions about pussy grooming, and I, with his permission, have published his email. He writes:

"Do you think pubic hair serves any real purpose?

The last few girls I dated were in their mid to late 20's and kept hardwood floors (i.e. shaved pussies), which I actually liked a lot. My ex wife and previous girlfriends, who were a bit older, were more on the shag carpet or au natural side, which I guess I didn't really mind, but I got sick of sticking my tongue in a brillo pad.

I asked my ex wife to clean it up a little bit, which she begrudgingly agreed to do. However, she insisted on keeping something because that was more adult-like and being fully shaved was disgusting. Apparently she hasn't gone down on another girl with a huge bush. Ick. We found a compromise that worked, which was about the only compromise we ever had in our short marriage, but I digress.

I'm not too hung up on it, but it’s interesting and I'd like to hear your thoughts on the subject, since you've probably seen more variations of shaved and unshaved or somewhere in between than I have.

Do lesbians or bi-sexual girls typically have a preference of shaved or unshaved? Do you think age is a factor if a girl will shave or not?

What do you think about guys who shave or do you not pay attention?"
- C.C.R.P.H.

See my response below:

Dear C.C.R.P.H.,

You are correct, Sally has sampled a wide variety of pussies in her day, plus I have one of my own I’ve been meticulously grooming since day one.

Or not.

Pussy up-keep can be girl’s worst nightmare, especially if you are prone to shaving rashes, in-grown hairs, or yeast infections. Sally has horrible eyesight, so, shaving in the morning without contacts is out of question. Thus, every couple of days, I laboriously grab my razor from a shelf on the tub while I’m bathing and do the deed. However, all those little hairs, regardless of how careful I am, end up stuck to the bottom of the tub. Now, it’s fine if you live alone, but if you have roommates, it can be an embarrassing discovery. When someone screams, “Ew! Who left their pubes all over the place?!” during your semi-formal dinner party, you know you’re the guilty offender. Please be careful with those pubes, folks.

In my experience, it’s the girls you would least expect to have immaculate clean-shaven pussies that do. Lesbians, especially, are surprising. The butchiest of the butch will have Thee Most Beautiful Pussy Ever while the Sexy Siren’s is only mediocre. Yet, I don’t subscribe to the school of thought, “Bald is Beautiful”. A pussy doesn’t necessarily have to be hairless or even shaved. Pussies with a rough texture, however, should come with a warning sign. Stubble is not sexy. I love giving head, but when razor burn threatens to remove the first layer of my epidermis, it’s time to revaluate.

Lucky for Sally, the ex had a stellar pussy. She shaved often, which, I too, like the reader above, appreciated. The only complaint I had was when she first shaved. She’d go completely or almost all the way bald, and it was usually on a Fri/Sat. night before we went out. Later on in the evening when we returned home, I’d rip her pants off and stick my tongue in her only to discover a little hair left over…like the pubes in the bath tub hair…hanging out. Usually, these stray hairs would end up in my mouth, or lodged in the back of my throat, but that’s nothing a glass of water can’t fix. I never did tell her about the strays, she was still one beautiful bitch in my mind.

But, to answer your question, reader, there is no hard n’ fast rule in the world of lesbians and bisexuals regarding pussy grooming. Even so, I consider it good form to shave mine at least once a week if I’m fucking a woman. I haven’t been as considerate when I’m going through a "man phase". Currently, the dude I’ve been nailing, much to my dismay, isn’t a huge fan of pussy licking. Thus, I admit, I’ve been lazy lately. But, if I’m spending an evening with a pussy enthusiast it will be groomed to perfection.

I’ve have also found age to be an equally surprising element in the whole “bald pussy” phenomenon. The oldest woman I’ve slept with was thirty-nine and the youngest was twenty-one. The twenty-one year old had nearly a full bush while the thirty-nine year old was as well-groomed as they come! Go figure! Reader, I see your point about the older generation being resistant to the prevailing trend. It happens. However, asking our lovers to do little things (like trimming) to increase our pleasure/their pleasure should not be out of the question, and I like the idea of compromise.

Do I notice when men shave their crotch? Yes, I think so. But with men I’m more likely to remember shape and size rather than hair presence. Some men are incredibly hairy, which makes dick sucking not only dangerous (choke!) but unpleasant. Men with big bushy pubic areas are probably also hairy-back gents and should consider a trip to the salon. There are men who are, for whatever reason, pretty hairless, so, for those boys, hair removal isn’t necessary.

Pubic hair, or hairiness in general, is probably a matter of preference more than anything. I have friends who “love them some hairy gorilla men”, and I imagine there are some men out there who (gulp) like hairy women, brillo pad and all. I lust for men who are tall, thin, femmy types with delicate hands, thus, hairy macho boys need not apply.

Tangentially, since we’re on the topic of pussies, ladies, which sign do you think gives the best or worst head? I’ve had terrible luck with Gemini men. Gemini men do know how to give a good fingering, but head, no thanks. Air sign men, typically, I’ve found are not well-trained in Pussy 101. Pisces men, on the other hand, give excellent head and are well-behaved slaves. Just kidding.

Well, maybe not.

Yours, Sally S.

Body Goals: 2007

Hey y'all,

As you know, Sally does enjoy her many hard core hours spent sweating it out in the gym. Here is the new workout plan (nutritition, cardio, and lifting) I devised for myself. It's pretty intense, but hopefully I can kick start this old mule. Heh.

Diet:

1) breakfeast: 2 servings, low calorie egg beaters with a sm. serving of fresh fruit

2) snack: whey protein shake

3) lunch: Soy burger, low fat, 2 servings of vegetables, low fat yogurt

4) pre-gym snack: Quaker Rick Cake with Peanut Butter

5) dinner: Salad with low cal dressing, fish (protein), and tomato

Other snack options: banana, apple, no sugar added: granola bar or pudding

Limit all caffeine, alcohol, and juices with high sugar content and increase water intake by 2 times the regular amount. (16 glasses per day at 8 ounces per glass)

Work out Plan: (based on a 6 day rotation, one day off)

1) Monday: 45 minutes of cardio: spin class (600 calorie burn)

Lift: Back and Biceps

Back rotation:

1) Assisted pull-ups (wide-grip) (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) One-Arm Dumbbell Row or Sitting Cable Rows (3 sets, 10 reps)
3) T-Bar Row (standing) narrow over-hand grip (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) Lat Pull Downs (3 sets, 15 reps)
5) Shoulder Shrugs with Isolation (2 sets, 10 reps)

Biceps:

1) Alternating Dumbbell Curls (2 sets, 20 reps)
2) Standing Straight Ez Bar Curls (2 sets, 15 reps)
3) Standing Preacher Curls (Ez Bar or Dumbells) (3 sets, 10 reps) or until failure

2) Tuesday- off-

3) Wednesday- 45 minutes of cardio (kick boxing and step class)

Lift: Legs

1) Leg extensions (2 machines, 3 sets of 15 on each one) warm-up
2) Squats (3 sets, 15 reps)

3) Leg Press (3 sets, 15 reps) wide stance

4) Sitting position with 25 lbs of weight on lap- hold for 2 minutes

4) Thursday- 40 minutes of cardio-Running

Lift: Chest and Triceps

Chest Rotation:

1) Incline Dumbbell Press (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) Wide-Grip Push Ups (3 sets, 15 reps)
3) Flat Bench Dumbbell Press (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) Cable Crossovers (3 sets, 8 reps)

Tricep Rotation:

1) Close-Grip Push Downs (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) Lying or Standing Dumbbell Tricep Extensions (3 sets, 10 reps)
3) Lying Tricep Press using EZ Bar (3 sets, 10 reps)

5) Friday – 30 minutes of cardio

Lift: Shoulders and Abs

Shoulder Rotation:

1) Behind the Neck Military Press (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) Seated Dumbbell Press (sitting straight up on bench, palms facing out) (3 sets, 10 reps)
3) Side Lateral Raises with dumbbells, keep palms facing down (3 sets, 10 reps)
or Front Dumbbell Raises for variation

Ab Rotation:

1) Cable Rope Crunches (3 sets, 20 reps)
2) 30 Degree partial sit-ups with Swiss Ball (3 sets, 20 reps)
3) Ball Pass (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) The Plank (2 sets, 60 seconds)

** Abs can be done every other day besides this day only

6) Saturday- 60 Minutes of Cardo, Abs and Glutes

Cardio (stair stepper and running)

Glutes

1) Walking Lunges with Weights, (3 times around the track)
2) Glute Kickbacks (3 sets, 25 reps)
3) Dumbbell Squat or Squat Lunges (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) Dumbbell Lunges (2 sets, 10 reps) or until failure

7) Sunday- cardio only with Abs (45 minutes of cardio, 15 minute abs)

A Change Would Do You Good

Last night an old friend called me in tears, her relationship ended a few days ago and as a result she was questioning her part in the break-up. Evidently, she was feeling pretty tortured because she asked me to pray for her. The essence of what she was experiencing is not new to me, or anyone else who’s been involved in an unsuccessful relationship. The experience of losing someone you love is powerful, and littered with vestiges from the past. Does that knife in your heart twisting about remind you of the past? Sometimes our pain comes in the form of a blessing, or a teacher, but it can be hard to appreciate a dull blade, some people really work it in slow. My friend was wondering about her ability to trust, since her lack of trust was destroying all of her relationships. Although, I believe she has inherited an extreme amount of anxiety about relationships from her mother, she’s much more equipped to deal with this than her mother is or was. So, her question got my wheels spinning. Basically, she said she understood her problem, but felt unable to change. She asked, “How can I change?”

I didn’t have a quick fix for her. This advice maven was left speechless. Imagine that! I was confounded, how does someone change? Is it a process? Is it something we “do?” Can we see it happen like in nature when a caterpillar transforms into butterfly? It seems to me insects have it easier than us. As rational beings, we understand how we are broken and where the holes are, but who or what will fill us up? I’ve always had a gift for being able to pin point people’s holes, but when they inevitably ask, “Well, what should I do about it?” I’m at a loss for words. And as the saying goes, “I cannot save you, I can’t even save myself.” If I knew the answer I would run around saving everyone, including myself. These holes are like massive bleeding wounds that won’t stop gushing, and it just gets bloodier and messier with each pattern we repeat. My friend knows she doesn’t trust people, and with each relationship, her expectation of unfaithfulness permeates through the atmosphere. Prospective partners who also have similar patterns hook into this image and work it thoroughly. We will bang our heads against the cement until we “get it”.

Fear of Change- Transformation in Reverse

The more we regress and resist the necessity of change the harder the lessons come. This regression serves as retraction of energy, spirit, and our livelihood. We work backward into our pain again, layering ourselves with the comfort of wrapping it all up. This massive cocooning humans take part in seems instinctual and primitive, but the developments of our intellectual and emotional facilities are fostered by stepping out and taking a risk, exploring new territory. Why, then, are we so afraid? And why are some people less afraid than others?
To be certain, most people are unaware an inner revolution is beginning inside of them, as they stumble from one day to next. But, as fully conscious beings we have a responsibility to stay connected, self-awareness is critical to our survival.

Recently, I have been reading Frank Kafka’s, Metamorphosis, which is an interesting exploration of the dehumanization, alienation, and mental isolation people fear or experience when going through an intense transformation. Will the people I love still accept me? Will I able to relate to the people I love afterward? All of these questions weigh heavy in the minds and hearts of those who are transcending their old reality.

See below an explanation of insect metamorphosis:

Metamorphosis refers to a major change of form or structure during development.

One of the most dramatic forms of metamorphosis is the change from the immature insect into the adult form. Most of the major insect orders have a typical life cycle which consists of an egg, which hatches into a larva which feeds, moults and grows larger, pupates, then emerges as an adult insect that looks very different from the larva. These insects are often called 'Holometabolous', meaning they undergo a complete (Holo = total) change (metabolous = metamorphosis or change). Those which have immature stages similar in shape to the adult minus the wings are called 'Hemimetabolous', meaning they undergo partial or incomplete (Hemi = part) change.

Metamorphosis is one of the key elements that explains why insects are so successful. Many insects have immature stages with completely different habitats from the adults. This means that insects can often exploit valuable food resources while still being able to disperse into new habitats as winged adults. The potential for adaptation and evolution is greatly enhanced by metamorphosis.

There is an important feature to note regarding metamorphosis. Insects are not able to mate and reproduce until they undergo their final moult or emerge from a pupa as a winged adult. Wings do not appear until the final moult (the one exception to this is the Ephemeroptera, or Mayflies). When you see an insect with wings, it is fully grown.

In closing, I’d like to leave you with some Lauryn Hill lyrics from her Unplugged album. The song speaks of the internal struggle so many of us face as we try to cleanse, rebuild, and transform our reality.

Oh Jerusalem- Lauryn Hill

Realizing that there's no place else to go
And there's nobody I know who can help me
Text book solutions are so improbable
Cause everybody else is just as empty
Naked as the day that I was born, I tried to hide
...behind education and philosophy
Hopeless explanation to describe a situation
I can't see because the world's on top of me
Oh wretched man that I am, who will deliver me
From the body of this death
Freeing me from dust, and the superficial trust
Of an enemy that seeks to take my breath
Failing to connect, cuz I'm morally defect
By reason of the God inside my head
Causing me to see, only what pertains to me
Believing I'm alive when I'm still dead
Limited to earth, unable to find out my worth
Cause I can't see past my own vanity
If I'm not included, then I just have to remove it
From my mind because it has to be insanity
Oh wretched man that I am, who will deliver me
From the body of this death
Can I even factor, that I've only been an actor
In this staged interpretation of this day
Focused on the shadow, with my back turned to the light
Too intelligent to see it's me in the way
What a paradox, having God trapped in a box
All this time professing to be spiritual

Oh Jerusalem, wash thy heart from wickedness
That thou may be saved from thy deception
How long, shall thy face those lies within thee
Oh Jerusalem, keeping thee from perfection

Submit to truth, leave the deception of thy youth
So we could walk in the council of authority
Forget the proof, our generation so aloof
Only follow in the steps of the majority
Trust in the Lord, with all thy heart
And lay not to thine, oh an understanding in all thy ways
Acknowledge Him, and He shall correct our paths

We judge and condemn, just as ignorant as them
Who religion tells us that we should ignore
Perpetrating we're in covenant with Him
Exposed by the very things that we adore
We grin and shake hands, then lay ambush for the man
Who has a different point of view then us
Infuriated cause he doesn't understand
Bringing up those things we don't want to discuss
Why we still do evil, we don't know how to do good
Walking on in darkness running from the light
Led to believe, because we live in neighborhoods
Telling us what's going on, it will be alright
Oh so repressed, so convinced that I was blessed
When I played with my game of Monopoly
Oh to suggest, that my life is still a mess
the pride I'm hiding is what's stopping me

Oh Jerusalem, wash thy heart from wickedness
That thou may be saved from thy deception
How long, shall thy face those lies within thee
Oh Jerusalem keeping me from perfection